


History

by pied_r_piper



Series: Do It For Her [8]
Category: Digimon - All Media Types, Digimon Adventure, Digimon Adventure Zero Two | Digimon Adventure 02, Digimon Adventure tri.
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Digimon, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:41:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28802247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pied_r_piper/pseuds/pied_r_piper
Summary: Taichi wakes up alone on New Year’s. [Oneshot]
Series: Do It For Her [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1325459
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	History

**Author's Note:**

> You touch me and it's almost like we knew  
> That there will be history between us two
> 
> “There’s No Way” by Lauv

The neighbors broke up. Taichi's not sure when precisely, but it had to have happened sometime in the four hours between the marathon rerun of some low-budget mystery crime serial finally lulling him to sleep and the obnoxiously loud commercial for a handless food mandolin startling him awake again. He fumbles for the television remote, smacking the "off" button with the heel of a heavy hand just as the doorbell rings. By the time he drags himself off the couch and stumbled to the entranceway, a fresh pattering of shouts and crashes has broken out next door.

One look at her face tells him what he's missed.

Mimi's apartment shares the feuding couple's other wall, and between the two of them they've seen their fair share of these regular on-and-off-and-on-agains. She'd always insisted she has it worse as a light sleeper (something she'd forcefully warned everyone on their floor about with hand-lettered notices taped to all their doors the same day she moved in), and truth be told even the generous dab of undereye foundation she boasts that morning does little to hide the dark red circles, never mind the vein pulsing across her left temple.

"All night?" he mutters, rubbing his eyes.

"All. Night." She hisses, her voice a deadly pitch, "And I refuse to listen to any more. Get changed, we're going for a run."

Something heavy collides with the wall that shares Taichi's hallway closet, and they both flinch. He swings the door behind him, shuffling into his worn tennis shoes. "Let's just go now."

"What—in that?"

He shrugs off her scattered gaze down the wrinkled, lint-covered shorts and stained tee he'd put on the day before—or, was it the day before that? "Haven't gotten anything cleaner."

Mimi's nose twitches, and her pause appears to reconsider which of her present two options promises the most personal embarrassment, until another crash resounds through the building walls. "Ugh, whatever, let's go."

She insists on the stairs, too irritated to wait for the elevator, all while narrating the trials of her last several hours. "Must've been past one-thirty when I came home to them just screaming, over nothing and everything. Instantly sobered me. How on earth could you sleep through it?"

"I probably should just be grateful 'bout getting any sleep at all," he says, holding the lobby door open for them.

They cut across the building's enclosed parking lot, swinging around the gated entrance and onto the sidewalk, and head away from a morning sun that struggles to pierce a cloudy horizon. Even so, Taichi doesn't want to have be squinting while running exhausted, and either Mimi is so sleep deprived and hungover herself that she doesn't notice he's nudged them off their usual route, or she hears the "lately" he purposely hadn't added to the end of his sentence and is trying to give him a win.

"Well, blessing in disguise that it's just you now," she says between breaths.

Yup, she'd heard. And, in typical Tachikawa fashion, she'd dispensed with all tact and gone straight for the emotional gut.

"Too soon, Mimi."

She guffaws, a difficult sound to make while keeping pace with his footballer's stride, and yet oddly on the mark. She can keep the pace, too, and always has, one of the reasons he had yet to politely ween off running together after the first few times she'd accosted him in their building's elevator the week she'd moved in and declared no friend of hers would ever jog alone. He doesn't even mind the chatter anymore; if anything, it helps with his endurance. Well, endurance and patience.

"Three weeks is plenty of time. Look at all the things God's supposed to have done in three days."

All right, more patience than endurance.

He slows to a stop at the traffic light, but Mimi can't be still, jogging in place next to him. "Nothing's dead yet. I'll be back soon enough."

"You always are," she points out. "Apart from the Sid and Nancy next door, you're my most, shall we say, active—," ("—let's not say—,") "—neighbor. Before Meiko the second time was—Jan? Joan?"

"Jun."

"And then Meiko the first time, and before that, the really beautiful blond, right? Oh my God, if only I could have dated him."

"Are we done?" He picks up his pace slightly, but she's undeterred. A steamroller in petite human form.

"Clearly not," she refuses, catching up to him easily. Damn, he's out of shape. "And don't be snippy with me."

"I'm not being snippy. I've just not been getting much sleep."

"You could be getting no sleep of an entirely different kind if you'd stop moping around."

Taichi laughs, a mistake he immediately regrets when his side bursts into a stitch. Good Lord, he really is out of shape. "It's just something she said."

"Jen?"

"Jun. And, no. Meiko. The second time. But probably the first time, too," he admits with another sudden intake. "She said I have a problem with being alone."

Mimi appears to consider this. "Do you?"

"Well," he relents, "it's barely past dawn on the first day of the year, and I'm out here with you."

She straightens, triumphant. "Then your luck's already turned."

He doesn't risk too loud a laugh this time, feeling the stitch in his side pulsing now. "Lucky m—hey!" because a car had turned suddenly close around the corner, shuttering towards them. He stumbles backwards, throwing himself in front of her, the elbow to her face a drastic miscalculation of his instincts. She screams, falling into a tumble on the grassy pathway. "What—I'm sorry, hey—are you—?"

Mimi moans, a hand plastered to her right cheek, her eye screwed shut. "Why would you hit me?"

"I wasn't trying to—don't say it like that!" He's crouched in front of her scratched knees, trying to peer underneath her shaking fingers. "Let me see you. Are you all right?"

"Unbelievable." She loosely smacks his hand away but keeps hers outstretched. He helps her up, watching her poke at the soft curve of her cheek, blinking her right eye. "Run is officially over."

"You're the one who wante—I'm sorry," Taichi cuts himself off, grimacing under the weight of her stare. "I am sorry. People drive crazy around here. I just—I saw the car coming, and it's a holiday, and they could've been drinking," he stops, flustered, shoulders raising.

"I can protect myself, you know."

"I do know."

She stumbles a little, her left arm sweeping the air in front of her. "I can't believe you blinded me because a car going the speed limit scared you. You really do have a problem; all your reflexes turn to jello when you're on your own too long, don't they?"

"Will you—," and he grabs her free hand, falling into pace beside her, "—stop being dramatic."

"Trust me, you'll know when I'm being dramatic." Mimi groans again, stopping after a few meters. "Detour."

"What?"

"Detour!" she yells, then yanks him along with her to another corner, turning left away from the direction of their building. "I need to get my face under ice, asap. I am not starting the new year with a black eye."

"There are worse things," says Taichi, trying to see the bright side, or get her to see it. "I mean, I'm starting the new year alone, for the first time in basically ever."

"It's what you deser—," and she stops, stepping back from him. Mimi squints through her good eye, which is narrowed in calculated suspicion. "You've never been alone on New Year's?"

"Is it that hard to believe?" He extends the villainous elbow, and she, sufficiently distracted, accepts, leading them more slowly down the next street.

"Yeah, it is."

"Okay, don't be mean about it—,"

"I'm not!" protests Mimi, still struggling with the new information. "I'm just—I've never heard of—God, you really do have a problem! How long have you been dating?"

"I don't know, fourteen, fifteen, maybe?"

She lowers her hand from her face finally, gently flexing the muscle to her cheek. "You're telling me you haven't been single since you were fifteen-years-old."

"I mean, it's not like it's been just one person since I was fifteen."

She scoffs, still dazed. "Well, I should hope not. Can you imagine being with the same person for fifteen years?"

The dismay is difficult to mask. "How old do you think I am?"

"What, like you've been carrying yourself like the pinnacle of youth lately?" she defends. "Your mom-arm just tried to blind me."

"Mom-arm?"

"Yeah, you know," and she's giggling, demonstrating with her other hand, "when you're driving, and you have to hit the brakes, and you put your arm out to brace your kid from flying forward from the sudden stop?"

He feels flustered, "I do not have mom-arm."

"Mom-elbow, then."

"Where are we going?" he says, looking around the unfamiliar row of houses for an excuse to hide his red face.

Mimi points to the modest two-story tucked between a neatly pruned garden hedge and a metal chain fence, the yellow paint of its front door glinting warmly under the morning sun. "Bet you the party's still going."

"Right, your New Year's party?"

"When I left, Takeru had just opened another bottle from Ken's not-so-secret stash of Veuve Clicquot."

Taichi snorts, amused most of all for her penchant for rolling off names as though they were people he'd know, too. "The sugar in that alone would be the mistake."

"Um, no, that's—,"

The yellow door slams open, and they freeze, accosted by the furious face of a bespectacled, long-haired woman in a purple camisole and boyshort briefs. Taichi's face is even redder, but Mimi's sigh is just dismissive. "Do you have any idea how loud you two talk?" screeches the woman. "We just finally got to bed!"

Mimi's cheerful, unbothered. "Where's your bathrobe, Miyako?"

"Who's this?" she counters.

"I need ice for my face," Mimi answers, ignoring her back.

"Well, we don't have any," she says, voice shrill, and bordering manic. "Yamato had to dump it out because Koushiro kept eating the chips."

Mimi's chin dips to the side. "So that's what happens to five-drinks-Koushiro…."

"So boring, I know. Who's this?"

("I'm—,")

"Anything frozen?"

Miyako hesitates, then rubs her face. "Willis may or may not have opened the pizza. I can't remember. Come on."

The unlocked door trickles shut behind her as she pads barefoot back into the house, and Taichi hesitates on the sidewalk after Mimi pushes ahead of him, returning her hand to her aching facec. She stops at the entrance. "Use your mom-elbow for good this time."

"With great powers…," he jokes, but opens the door for her anyway.

The interior is cold, a draft wafting through an open window in the kitchen he can glimpse just beyond the hallway corner. Miyako's yelling back at them, "He opened the pizza, and then never even made it! Been sitting out all night—ugh, I hate living here—,"

"Then move," yawns a new voice from the living room to their left. "I'm begging you. I need to sleep."

Mimi bounds to the doorway, beaming through her good eye. "Couldn't make it upstairs, boys?"

All Taichi can see is a blond nest of bed hair from under an oversized trench coat curled up on the floor. The lump wobbles with the effort to answer her, his speech groggy and hoarse from a long night. "I will give you my firstborn to move everyone out of this house so I can sleep."

"Nobody wants to think about you reproducing, Will," mumbles another blond-headed lump of pillows and jackets splayed on the couch.

"I want to think about it," mutters a third lump from the other end of the same couch, and the second lump kicks him. "Ow! Jesus, Takaishi—!"

"Why is everyone still talking?" whimpers a fourth lump, darker-haired, that stirs in the armchair.

"No one's talking. You're dreaming this, Iori."

"A terrible, horrible dream."

"How about this?" asks Miyako, holding out a packet of crisps. "I ran it under the cold tap for a bit. What happened? And who's this?"

All the lumps speak in unison from their makeshift beds. "Who's who?"

Taichi takes a step back, alarmed. "I'm—,"

"What, we all forgot each other's names already?" A pretty redheaded woman descends the staircase adjoining the hallway, stretching her arms over her head, a borrowed bathrobe tied tight around a slender waist. Blinking the sleep from her eyes, she smiles at Mimi, "I thought I heard your voice. I'll never understand how you have so much energy to be up and out this early after a night like last night."

"How I've paid for it." With her free hand, Mimi points to the crisps she has pressed to the right side of her face. "Where's your shadow?"

The woman shakes her head, kissing Mimi's left cheek, and turning being so close to her to peer under the packet. "I rolled Jou over in my place. I guarantee he won't notice."

The blond lump on the sofa shoots an arm into the air. "Sora, a question."

"Thank you for letting us crash in your room, Takeru," says the redhead, as though a compliment might deter the inevitable.

"To be clear, I gave that bed to you and my brother. How did Jou get in there with you two?"

The other end of the sofa snorts, and Willis laughs, or tries to, "Codependency needs no euphemism."

"I actually think you're fine, Mimi. It's just a bit of swelling." Sora smiles again at her, keeping her hand on her shoulder with affection. Her glance at Taichi is less so. "Who're you?"

When there's an actual pause, long enough to actually answer, he opens his mouth. "I'm—,"

"Ken!" shrieks Miyako, and the lumps collectively grumble again, muttering about the volume. Miyako shoves past Taichi to meet a lanky, long-haired man who's followed the redhead down the stairs in silence, all this time. "Why are you up?"

"Aspirin," mumbles Ken.

Miyako radiates guilt. "I know, I know—I was on my way but then Mimi showed up with—I'm sorry, who are you again?"

("I—,")

"What are you all doing out there!" someone new yells from upstairs.

Taichi's looking at Mimi, "How many people live here?"

"You want to go," she guesses. She spins around, yelling, "Koushiro, just relax, we're going to go!" as more groans echo through the rental to protest her lack of compassion for their night of bad choices.

"Who's 'we'?" the voice lobbies back, inquisitive even as he's hungover.

Everyone appears to answer for him, this time, and all at once.

"'We' had better be all of you—,"

"Can we not start the new year fighting?"

"The only thing I'm fighting is peaceful sleep, apparently."

"Please, okay—I am so tired, I can't—,"

"Didn't you go home, Mimi?" Ken's blinking at her, pushing his dark bangs back from his forehead.

"I did, Ken, last year. Today's a different year," Mimi adds, and laughs at her own joke.

"…It is?"

"It is, I remember," and Iori pulls down the collar of the raincoat he'd been snuggling under. His voice is thick with dawning realization. "We'd rung in the new year and were hanging around, and you were…you were—,"

Takeru fills in the rest, "—talking about wanting to get home to see if your hot neighbor was still—,"

Mimi shoves the crisps back into Sora's hands. Her voice is louder than normal, even for her. "I'm feeling so much better. Thanks for checking, Sor."

"How'd you even hurt your face?"

"Mimi hurt her face?"

"Oh no, that's my favorite face—ow! Daisuke!"

"Wait, I do know you." The lump from the other end of the couch, suspending his next kick, lifts himself free at last from layers of winter jackets, his tanned face and unruly maroon curls swiveling in Taichi's direction. "You're Jun—,"

"Let's go," Mimi tells Taichi.

Completely lost, and looking only to her, he just agrees. "Yeah, okay."

There's a pause from upstairs. "Who was that?"

Ken seems to have caught up with the conversation. "Jun's here?"

"Who's here?"

"Where?"

"Wait, what?"

Willis sits up, furious. "I swear to God, if someone doesn't put me out of my misery, right now—,"

Taichi grunts when Mimi's fingers, ice cold from the crisps packet she'd been holding, dig into his wrist and pull him with an astonishing level of strength. "When you're all done sleeping this brand new year away, give me a call," she says, slamming the door in vengeance to a chorus of more protests.

"Your friends are…," Taichi trails off with a laugh, falling into pace with her, "interesting?"

"With friends like these…." She lets him go, shaking her hands in front of her face to warm up the numbness the packet had left on her skin, or to cool her reddening cheeks down. Her voice recovers its usual lilt, eyes brightening. "But good news: I'm not blind."

He takes the dare. "All the better to see your 'hot neighbor' with."

Immediately deflated, Mimi broils, refusing the bait. "You don't think Nancy's hot?"

"Does that mean I get Sid?"

"Teamwork is dreamwork." Patting her temples lightly, Mimi takes a breath when they reach the corner, waiting for the traffic signal. She huffs, stretching her arms overhead, and glances at him. The makeshift compress has flushed her cheeks, her nose a bright pink in the cold winter air. She shakes her head at him, incredulous, "I mean, why do you think I've been knocking on your door so much, anyway?"

One look at her face tells him what he's missed.

Hiding his grin, Taichi moves his hands to his sides, bracing for the light to change. "So that's the game, then."

The yellow signal blinks, and they're both looking ahead now. "Beat me back?"

"If you think you can."

"I think—," the signal clicks, "—you can try!" and like a viper her elbow smacks into the bend of his back, knocking him forward, her laughter the last thing he hears as she starts the chase.

**Author's Note:**

> Completely silly, no real point or summative goal here! Just a little fun. Thanks for reading :)


End file.
